


lovely

by thetulipsaretoored



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of Sakazaki, Possessive Asami Ryuichi, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 19:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21002729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetulipsaretoored/pseuds/thetulipsaretoored
Summary: Akihito comes to a world-shattering realization, which leads to two confessions. Both unravel something in Asami, and in the free fall that results, he binds Akihito to him, connected invariably.orAsami finds out about Sakazaki.





	lovely

The flickering luminescence of the elevator lights intensify the pallor of Akihito's drawn face; his eyes close against the white light. Thoughts tumble in his mind, and when they collide, they leave him frayed at the edges. A slight headache pulses at his temple. Resting his head against the wall, he releases a ragged sigh that seems too loud in the somber silence.

He recalls Sakazaki’s leering grin, his head thrown back, taunting and belittling Asami as Akihito sucks him off; Asami’s apparent concern, seeing in his furrowed brow, the increase in smoking and drinking, knowing something’s up with him but at a loss for how to approach the matter because of how heated Akihito gets at the slightest display of Asami’s care. This last week, Akihito’s been…difficult. Snapping and withdrawing from Asami whenever he comes near, except for on the rare occasion Asami decides to fuck him hard and good—those are the only moments Akihito can find reprieve.

A wave of nausea washes over Akihito at the memories. He longs for a scalding shower, a toothbrush, and, if he’s being honest with himself, a passport to get as far away from all of this as soon as possible.

The guilt worsens as Akihito’s mind focuses on the changes in Asami. It all started with unexpected texts during the day. They ranged from teasing, dirty messages about how Asami was going to fuck him so deliciously good that Akihito will be ruined for any other person who dares believe they can touch what Asami owns to simply an out-of-the-blue question about Akihito’s day.

Most recently, texts about Asami’s day have joined the mix:  _ I resisted the urge to do something you wouldn’t approve of today; you’re changing me, Akihito—I should be concerned about the consequences of that, but I find myself thinking more about you than anything else. _

_ _

Like what is Akihito supposed to do with that?!

And it’s not just the texts. It’s the soft, unguarded smiles and the carefree laughter. It’s Asami waiting up for Akihito until he gets back home to the apartment after a long day and then dragging Akihito to bed. And no, not for a fuck but for sleeping. More than sleeping—cuddling, though Akihito would never call it that to Asami’s face. He holds Akihito against his chest, rests a hand in his hair, trails soothing patterns down his back until Akihito’s tension leaves and he sleeps blissfully.

The elevator pings a sharp noise that jolts Akihito from his brooding. He scowls at the quickness of his heartbeat. What does Akihito even want to be to Asami?

He feels his cheeks burn at the traitorous thought:  _ everything _ .

Scoffing at himself, he storms off the elevator. He’s been told he’s just a convenient pet by so many of Asami’s shady business partners that it’s got to be true. Right?

His worries of Asami finding out about Sakazaki are misplaced. He won’t give a shit; hell, he’ll be mad. Maybe he’ll even fuck him hard and rough one more time just to show Akihito that he owns him. Only to leave Akihito on the street afterward, rejecting the used, disloyal scraps.

The door to Asami’s penthouse looms in front of him, silent and foreboding. Akihito vaguely remembers his father reading The Hobbit to him as a kid. When Bilbo first enters Smaug’s lair, the narrator tells the reader that Bilbo had to muster all his courage to exit the tunnel leading into the bottommost dungeon; the real true test of Bilbo’s bravery was whether or not he could enter the home of the dragon. Akihito smiles softly, wondering what Asami would think of him comparing the high and mighty crime lord to Smaug the Tremendous.

As he enters the silent, dark save for the flickering of the T.V. that lights the end of the hallway, he hears soft snores. He follows the noise, his socked feet softening the sound of his clumsy, anxious steps.

The sight of Asami in his robe, lying on the sofa, the tips of his hair swept carelessly above his brow, making him look younger and gentler, compels Akihito to draw nearer until he’s kneeling on the floor next to him.

He knew Asami was ruthless from the beginning. Knew it was foolish to tempt him with a cheeky tongue as he escaped and disappeared into the night. Asami’s reaction, how he—what he did should infuriate Akihito, embarrass him. He should  _ hate _ Asami.

Yet, he feels none of those things.

Asami is ruthless in sex—mercilessly bringing Akihito to the brink again and again and again until he is worn and exhausted.

But he is also ruthlessly protective of Akihito. So endearingly caring about Akihito’s safety—even if it’s often obnoxious and infuriating.

In Asami’s ruthlessness, Akihito feels safe.

He studies Asami’s beauty—built like Adonis, though with a more fiendish tone. There’s a lethal, darkness to Asami; he holds such power. Sure, he’s incredibly strong, but there’s an underlying current of command that Akihito’s inherent independence wants to balk at.

Akihito finds himself adrift in Asami’s sway.

Yet, in the ominous abyss, Akihito finds refuge in his embrace.

He traces his finger over Asami’s lips. His sharp jaw. A brief touch on a brow, arched even in his sleep. Akihito knows Asami is a major and powerful player in Tokyo’s criminal underworld. He’s never been able to pin down how truly shady he is, but the smallest amount of darkness in Asami should make Akihito’s fingers itch to get dirt on him. It did; it definitely used to.

But Asami has exposed Akihito to a spectrum of shades, a continuum that has little room for light. He wonders when exactly he became attuned to the shadows.

Sighing, Akihito admits defeat. He knows deep down that Asami cares for him. And if he does, then what does Akihito feel for him?

Closing his eyes, he focuses on what he feels, deep down buried beneath all the guilt and anxiety and doubts: the shy delight he felt when Asami kept tucking his hair behind his ear because he forgot to schedule an appointment to get it cut; the joy that encompassed him when Asami indulged his appetite (and the price that comes with it) and his excited ramblings of Kou and Kou’s ridiculousness all while Asami laughed with joy so bright that his heart ached; the absurd merriment zipping through him as Asami playfully chased him throughout the penthouse, throwing furniture all over the floor to try to get to Akihito; the assurance he finds in Asami’s perceptive, nonjudgmental gaze as he lays Akihito’s desires and wants bare before him, meeting and fulfilling those needs with such ardor.

Akihito gasps as a strong, warm hand wraps around his wrist.

His eyes open wide, meeting the earnest attention of the one he realizes he loves.

While Akihito struggles to comprehend the magnitude of his epiphany, Asami moves to a sitting position, bringing Akihito to rest between his legs. He leans to press a kiss to Akihito’s temple.

His rough baritone is laced with sleepiness and concern. “Something’s bothering you.”

He says nothing else, simply waiting for Akihito to compose himself and explain his distress.

Akihito’s own voice sounds distant. There’s something lodged tight in his chest, and he fears what will happen if it unravels from the restrictive hold on his heart.

“I need--I need to confess something. Well, actually, two things. You won’t like one of them and the other…” Akihito meets Asami’s eyes and takes a deep steadying inhale. He distantly thinks, _ I’m going to miss him.  _ “I’m not sure what you’ll think of the other one.”

\---

Asami has known that something has been bothering Akihito since the moment he stumbled into their home, weary and ragged, a week ago. Akihito’s been prickly ever since and has refused to do much of anything with Asami other than instigate a rough fuck.

Not that Asami doesn’t enjoy that. He simply thought they were past the doubts, confusion, and biting remarks that came from Akihito’s insecurities.

He can only assume now that Akihito has done something that he had explicitly told him not to do; it’s just a matter of figuring out what exactly he has gotten himself into this time.

Asami will be firm; demand that he learns to have some self-preservation and that he withholds himself from leads that place a target on his back, but Asami will, undoubtedly, ensure the target is removed that night and will, undoubtedly, prove once more to Akihito that there is no room for doubts in what they have together. He’ll make sure to impress into Akihito’s heart that there is no other—there never will be.

The only light from the kitchen fans across Akihito’s face and casts him in an ethereal glow.

“Asami, I love you.”

Akihito’s whispered words echo in the dark and resound in Asami’s mind. Before he can even begin to react to Akihito’s declaration, before he can even dissect and analyze the hiccupping thud in his own chest and the deep, primal desire to haul Akihito’s ass to their bed, Akihito speaks once more.

“But- But, Asami, I serviced Sakazaki a week ago to get the information you needed.”

Asami feels the breath leave his lungs and a deep ache flare in his chest. He conjures the image of Sakazaki with a nice hole in the middle of his skull.

“The guilt is eating me alive. I—I despise what I did. I can’t get it out of my head.”

He shudders, and Asami wants to torture Sakazaki at this very moment. Wants to spill his blood and hear his screams echo as he begs for mercy. He will receive none.

“Most of all, I know I’ve hurt you, and that fact kills me.” Akihito laughs hollowly. “I wanted you to see me as your equal. I wanted to feel like I was worthy to stand by your side. I wanted to be the one to help you when—when no one else was able to.”

Head bowed and on his knees in supplication at Asami’s feet, Akihito has no idea the control he has over the one he entreats.

“I have failed you. I have betrayed you.” Akihito, eyes red and brimming with unshed tears, looks up at Asami’s composed face. “I’m sorry.”

\---

Akihito quivers under the weight of Asami’s heavy stare. He needs Asami to say something. Anything. He doesn’t dare reach out to the man before him, so, instead, he whispers his name.

A hand cradles his jaw, tracing the arch of his cheek before running through his soft locks. He arches and gasps as the grip tightens, tilting his head up and exposing his neck to lips that press below his ear.

Akihito, confused and swaying on his knees, needs more of Asami, his firm hands, his teeth, and tongue, to reassure him of what he can only hope for.

The weighted silence breaks as Asami speaks. “Do you not realize the power you possess? You are more than my equal. Between us, my heart lies exposed, attached irretrievably to yours. Do you honestly think that when I look at you, it is with denigrating regard?” Asami’s voice darkens, full of wonderful, sinful indulgence. “Akihito, your submission to me, even when you’re fighting it—” There’s a brief pause, and Akihito’s heart beats louder, “especially when you’re fighting it, is a gift. You are a gift.”

Asami leaves a trail of kisses from Akihito’s jawline to his collarbone. Akihito frantically tries to wrap his head around all that Asami has said, all that he means. As Asami releases his hold, Akihito grasps his forearms, refusing to let him withdraw.

In a flash of movement, Akihito is lifted from the floor and tossed gracefully onto the couch. Asami looms over him, shedding his robe. “I hope you don’t have plans for tomorrow.” His grin is lethal as he unzips Akihito’s jeans and flings them across the room. “You won’t be able to get out of bed.” He smiles; it looks vicious but possesses an underlying warmth that sets Akihito’s nerves alight. “Not only because you’ll be too sore to even think of leaving, but also because I have no intention of letting you go.”

Asami presses against Akihito; his teeth nip and pull on pouting lips. He tastes like ridiculously expensive scotch—flowery notes with a hit of bonfire smoke—and the bitter bite of tobacco. Placing his knee against Akihito’s cock, Asami slips his tongue past gasping lips. Simmering heat settles low in Akihito’s gut, and he grips Asami’s hair, throwing everything he has into the kiss. Fingers trace Akihito’s neck down to his collarbone before reaching his sternum and chest, palm fanning on top of his racing heart. He thought Asami would be livid. He thought Asami would kick him out, be repulsed by him, as disgusted as Akihito is with himself. Yet, Asami kisses him like he wants to devour him, like he wants to imprint in his mind the taste of Akihito forever.

“What do you want, Akihito?” The smooth baritone sends chills down Akihito’s spine as Asami runs a swift hand up the length of his already dripping cock.

“Ahh” Akihito grips Asami’s shoulders helplessly, nails biting into firm flesh. His sensitivity used to be embarrassing and in ways, it still is. Once Akihito would be red-faced and pushing Asami, begging him to stop as he tries to get away. Only, he never really tried that hard. Even though he would be pushing Asami with his hands, he would be pulling him closer, legs wrapped tight around his waist.

As quickly as Asami was on him, he’s gone in less time and Akihito whines in his cold absence. A hand threads through his hair and teeth tease the lobe of his ear, tugging gently before he hears Asami continues to tease him. “Tell me, Akihito. What do you want? Do you want my tongue, hot and buried in your ass, tasting you like the fine delicacy that you are?”

Akihito gasps at the lewd image his question incites. He feels warm all over; the air so thick with tension, so electric, that he can barely breathe. Asami’s never done that before, has never even suggested it. He’s heard of rimming, has jacked off to it once when Asami was on a business trip, imagining what it would feel like to be wrecked by Asami in that way. Now that Asami is offering this delectably sinful act, Akihito can think of nothing else. 

“Or do you want me to suck you off, bring you to the brink of orgasm, just to ease you back off the precipice, again and again, until you’re so hard and aching that your cock burns to the touch?”

“Asami!” Akihito feels like his heart is going to burst; he needs Asami to do something,  _ anything. _

“Or, my sweet Akihito, do you want me to slide into you, so slow and deep that you feel me for days, so whenever you move, wherever you rest, you can’t help but think of me?”

Akihito’s skin flushes; the clash of embarrassment and want compels him to drag Asami into a fierce, brutal kiss. He nips and sucks and, when he tastes blood, he glares into the taunting gaze and threatens, “If you don’t shut up and fucking do  _ something _ , I will cut off your dick.”

Asami’s answer is a wicked grin.

He flips Akihito over onto his stomach, grasping his hips to tilt them up, putting his ass on display. Asami spreads his cheeks, and his lips press a soft, reverent kiss. Akihito releases a groan from deep inside his chest. His mind tries to stay in the present moment, to keep himself from processing nothing but the sensations Asami evokes. He needs to figure out what Asami’s words mean; he needs to know what Asami actually feels for him. But at the first wet brush of tongue, he loses all cognition. His sole existence is pinpointed on the pleasure radiating from Asami’s skilled tongue that enters, swirls, and teases.

Breathless gasps pass through his lips. Head pressed into his forearm; he bears the tide of the pleasure radiating deep.

He’s on the brink of coming, can feel it in the tingling of his limbs and the stars blinking in his vision. Fingers trace his balls, as Asami’s mouth releases him. His whine is broken off by a gasp as teeth latch onto his cheek. Then he hears Asami’s voice, roughened by lust.

“Look at you,” Asami flips Akihito onto his back. His eyes latch onto Akihito’s swollen lips, the pink dusting his cheeks and all the way down to his collar bones. His pupils are dilated so much, all Akihito can see is a thin ring of gold. Asami slides down the length of him and licks the tip of his cock, eyes never leaving his.

With a smirk, he swallows him down, a tantalizing pressure, that lets off at the moment Akihito thinks he is going to come, and only when Akihito stops his desperate attempts for Asami to finish what he started, is he swallowed down once more by the practiced mouth.

“Asami!” The relentless tension tightening in his gut that sends flurries of electricity throughout his whole being increases to excruciating bliss, and just as he believes he’s about to come for real this time, Asami’s mouth eases off and he strokes Akihito lazily, grinning fiercely at Akihito’s pleasure and want, which his own touch has so finely tuned.

Akihito needs Asami's cock inside him this goddamn moment, and he's about to scream at Asami, beg for mercy when he feels a lubricated finger trace his ass. Exhausted and so ready for release, he whispers Asami’s name with pleading eyes and blurred vision. Asami, the one Akihito calls, the one who will always respond to Akihito’s call, ensnares his lips once more, swallowing Akihito’s moans.

There’s a dark chuckle full of perfect sin and sanctifying promise: “You have only what I give you, Akihito. The pleasure—" Akihito vision blurs as two fingers presses where he desires. “The pain—” Akihito gasps as teeth latch onto his side; there’s a hitch of discomfort but it’s soothed by a gentle tongue. “Yet, you still hold everything.”

Akihito is lost in the scent and taste and feel of Asami. All these declarations sound more like promises than passing statements. He can’t seem to grasp what all of it means. Then suddenly, like the swelling of a tide that ebbs and surges—Akihito sees it all with clarity.

He cries out Asami’s name, not certain of what he needs or what he’s even asking. With an all-knowing grin, Asami eases in. Akihito grips his shoulders and releases a heated moan at the burn; it hurts in the best, most encompassing way. He feels ensnared in Asami’s embrace, but instead of feeling caged and cornered, instead of triggering his fight or flight sense, this closeness, this intimacy feels like freedom.

He gasps at the realization of what he thinks this all means: Asami never leaving him, Asami wanting  loving  him. Asami presses a lopsided kiss to the corner of Akihito’s mouth and grabs his hips in a fierce grip, setting a slow rhythm; yet the smooth, easy drag of Asami’s cock isn’t enough.

“Asami, I need—”

He snaps his hips forward at an uncompromising, brutal pace.

Akihito’s breath hitches; Asami’s smirk unfurls.

He sets Akihito’s world on fire, watches it all turn to ash, just to rebuild all that Akihito truly wants and desires. A firm hand grasps Akihito’s cock and brings him closer and closer.

He’s helpless in the waves of pleasure, buoyed by Asami’s presence and the sweltering arousal flaming in his eyes. Akihito needs Asami, needs the reassurance and heat and safety and love that unfurls and expands in his chest, a winged light, warm and vibrant. Akihito throws his head back and presses his heels into Asami’s lower back.

Asami’s on the verge of breathless as he aims for that delightful spot that has Akihito seeing stars.

_ _

_ This will seal us together. No more doubts. No more insecurities. We are irrevocably tied,  _ Akihito thinks.

The thought of that, of never having to worry again where he stands with Asami, sends him over and he comes with a shout, clenching around Asami’s cock, slipping into oblivion where it is only him and Asami.

\---

Asami watches Akihito’s chest rise and fall, cherishes the soft exhalations that purse his lips endearingly. Before he can even welcome the comfort that is Akihito draped across his chest, sleeping so soundly, he must make a call.

Kirishima answers within a second. “Sir?’

“Sakazaki.”

“Where would you like him, sir?”

“In the warehouse.” He pauses, and his tone lowers into a vicious snarl. “Do not be gentle.”

\---

Akihito wakes in the darkness of their bedroom, lying across Asami’s chest. Distantly he hears Asami’s voice. His lips lift into a smile so at peace, so ridiculously happy. A hand traces shapes onto his back; a steady heartbeat lulls him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> My first Finder fic! *praise hands*
> 
> Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated and serve as wonderful motivation to keep writing ; )
> 
> All the thanks to [KingSirahk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingSirahk/pseuds/KingSirahk) for being a wonderful reader, beta, and friend. <3


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